


On the Other Side

by flecksofpoppy



Series: Poppy's Adventures in Night Ficcing [34]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender!Armin, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Valentine's Day Fluff, bar setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: “Ididn’t get stood up,” Jean says, cringing a little, not expecting the words to tumble out. “I gotbrokenup with.”The bartender raises two blond eyebrows, as if he’s not expecting to be privy to this much information, despite Jean’s former assumption. He leans over to vigorously wipe off the bar with a clean towel, biceps flexing. Not that Jean noticed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkheichou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkheichou/gifts).



> Prompt from pinkheichou:  
> I can never get enough of Jearmin TBH! So, um, how about aged-up bartender!Armin who looks all manly and handsome, wearing a sexy bun, and Jean who got rejected/broke up drowns his sorrow in alcohol. They chat a little and start to like each other

It’s February 14, and the bar Jean’s sitting in is mostly empty. It’s a dive bar, and not an establishment anyone in their right mind would take a date to.

“Another?” The bartender’s voice is calm, anticipatory in a knowing way, as if expecting to hear the full story without even asking.

And although Jean is almost always ready to talk, to state his case and air his thoughts, tonight he just feels like staring into the bottom of his glass and feeling a little sorry for himself.

“Yeah,” he answers without elaboration, voice flat.

The bartender nods and smoothly grabs a fresh glass, pouring whiskey into it without ice, remembering Jean’s original order two drinks ago.

He pushes it across the battered wood bar toward Jean, before moving to attend to the single other person.

Jean sneaks a look and sees an old man a few seats down, drinking the same thing he is.

Christ.

Jean sighs and rubs a hand over his face, taking a long pull of the whiskey and trying not to think too hard about his current state of affairs.

“He got stood up.”

Jean looks up abruptly and feels like a deer in the headlights as he meets two very blue eyes. In fact, they’re downright striking; he had acknowledged objectively, in the back of his head, that the bartender was attractive, but he hadn’t given it much thought up until now.

“You looked curious,” the bartender shrugs, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “He told me to tell you.”

The older guy gives Jean a nod from the end of the bar, toasting him a little with a sad expression, and shrugs.

Jean tries not to grimace; he’s not quite ready to toast old men on heartbreak lane, but he does nod back to be polite. He’s usually not so kind, but the guy looks like he’s a million years old and toting a list of at least a few important people who have died in his life.

“ _I_ didn’t get stood up,” Jean says, cringing a little, not expecting the words to tumble out. “I got _broken_ up with.”

The bartender raises two blond eyebrows, as if he’s not expecting to be privy to this much information, despite Jean’s former assumption. He leans over to vigorously wipe off the bar with a clean towel, biceps flexing. Not that Jean noticed.

“You got broken up with today?” he asks as he pulls back with a raised eyebrow, tossing the rag behind him toward the sink. “On Valentine’s Day? That’s pretty rough.”

“No,” Jean corrects, feeling silly now. “Six months ago.”

Another glass appears in front of him suddenly, and Jean’s eyes widen, staring down at the fresh drink. He’s even more surprised when another appears next to it, and he looks up expectantly.

“I’m Armin,” the bartender says, reaching his hand out in a friendly gesture. “Drink’s on me.”

Jean sighs deeply, giving into the urge to confess his troubles to the bartender a glass of whiskey like in a terrible romantic comedy, shaking his head.

“She’s cool,” she says, taking swallow of his drink, “but I knew it wasn’t going to work from the beginning.”

Armin nods, looking patient as he listens—he’s undoubtedly heard this story countless times before—and he clinks Jean’s glass with his own.

“Cheers, to spending Valentine’s Day working, or drinking.” He smiles a little, and somehow, it gets Jean to smile, too. It seems real and genuine, not contrived in the way that someone who makes a living off tips and charisma would use, like Jean might expect.

They both take a swallow, and Armin nods, smiling a little. “Good stuff. Top shelf.”

Jean nods. “Thanks.” He takes another pull, but finds himself more interested in Armin than his own troubles for the first time in a while.

The truth is that he and Mikasa broke up as a mutual understanding; nonetheless, it still broke his heart and his pride. He’d never met a person he’d admired as much as her, and the fact that they never quite fit as lovers wounded him.

“We’re still friends,” he continues, “but it… sucked.”

“I’ll bet.” Armin waits a beat, but then changes the subject. “So, how’d you end up here on Valentine’s Day?”

“I like shitty dive bars.” Jean blanches as he realizes he just insulted the workplace of the guy giving him free drinks. “Um, I didn’t mean…”

Armin’s laugh is clear and bright, and he leans forward, brushing his hand in a friendly way over Jean’s. “It is.”

“How’d you end up here?” Jean counters, eyeing Armin more closely now. Yeah, he’s hot—blue eyes and long blond hair pulled back in a bun that suits him—but there’s something Jean feels he’s missing.

“Well,” Armin replies, pulling back to drain his glass and meet Jean’s eyes, “I do this part-time. During the day, I’m a full-time student.”

“What do you do?” Jean can’t help but asking, unexpectedly fascinated.

“I study oceanography.”

Well, then.

“What do you do?” Armin counters.

“Uh,” Jean replies, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious since he’s sitting in front of a legitimate fucking scientist, “I work from home a lot, writing business plans.”

It sounds so lame, he wants to cringe; and then, he realizes with a start, that he wants to impress this guy. He likes him.

“That’s cool,” Armin replies without missing a beat. “Sounds nice to work from home.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Jean rests his head in a hand thoughtfully, reflecting on that. “Well, it was. But after my ex moved out, it’s sort of lonely now.” Jean’s face heats and he feels intensely embarrassed, concluding that he must be drunk to admit that.

“I bet,” Armin replies with a sympathetic look that appears to be completely genuine, and despite his better judgement, Jean relaxes. “That’s hard.”

And then suddenly, just as Jean is warming up to the conversation, Armin smiles at him, pats him on the shoulder again, and disappears to the other end of the bar to greet two patrons who have just come in. Much to Jean’s chagrin, it’s a couple who are already tipsy, probably having stumbled into one of the only bars still open at nearly midnight on a weekday.

He spends the next half-hour on his phone, trying to look busy and not steal glances at Armin—top shelf whiskey expert and oceanographer.

But time passes, and Armin is busy with the couple, then with the old man, then back and forth restocking the shelf, and whatever other tasks a bartender does.

“Hey,” comes Armin’s voice again suddenly, and Jean’s head jerks up.

A glass is proffered to him, and he stares in surprise. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No!” Armin replies, his eyebrows raising. “It’s from the couple at the end of the bar. They said you look…” he swallows, looking embarrassed.

“What?” Jean’s voice is flat.

“You look sad.”

“Great.”

“Free drink?” Armin shrugs a little, a sheepish smile on his face.

Jean grunts, but takes a sip.

“So an old guy, a drunk couple, and you bought me a drink.” Jean sighs, running a hand over his face and feeling more pathetic than he can remember.

Armin is quiet for a moment, and Jean looks up through his hand, curious at the silence. He expected some sort of joke in response.

“I have to cash out,” Armin says, watching Jean. “Wait for a sec?”

People don’t usually surprise Jean, but this entire evening has been a guessing game of hot bartender’s motives and background, so he’s intrigued enough to comply.

“Okay.”

He finishes his last drink, closes his tab, and watches as Armin cashes out behind the bar. A guy appears who looks like he most likely owns the place and pats Armin on the shoulder, nodding his head in a gesture that looks like a thank you.

Then, Armin disappears into the back, and Jean waits.

And waits.

And waits, and then starts to wonder if he got stood up. Does it never end?

In fact, he’s pretty sure as the bar stool screeches out from under him and he heaves a sigh, pulling his leather jacket on and feeling dejected. What else can go wrong?

But suddenly, a hand lands on his shoulder, and he lets it spin him around.

“Leaving already?” It’s Armin, and he’s wearing street clothes.

Jean blinks; he’s even hotter in real life than in charismatic moonlighting bartender guise.

“So, you said an old man, a couple, and bartender bought you a drink,” he says, his voice quick-witted and his eyes keen. “What if an old man, a couple, and a guy you might say yes to going out with bought you a drink?”

“Um.”

Armin just stares.

“I…” Jean’s mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. It’s common that his own mouth often defeats him, and so he finally settles on staring.

“Do you want to hang out sometime, Jean? Because every Valentine’s Day in the past three years, I’ve worked, and it’s always a bunch of drunk people. But this year, I had a good night.”

Jean finds his bearings, blinking, but then manages. “Yes.”

Armin smiles a little, reaching up to brush Jean’s neck with his thumb ever so slightly, flirtatious and full of promises; Jean flushes.

“It’s lonely, sometimes,” Armin remarks, cocking his head and dropping his hand. “Always watching.”

Jean finally manages to reel in his pounding heart, and he can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. “Are you hungry?” he blurts out abruptly. “I used to work late hours, too, and there’s a great…” he falters for a moment, realizing where he’s going with this, but then continues, “there’s a great diner around the corner.”

“You used to work late hours, too?” Armin asks with interest, grabbing Jean’s arm. “Tell me about it.”

“Okay,” Jean replies, not pulling away. “Well… it was when I was in college, but I definitely didn’t go for fucking oceanography.”

Armin laughs as they leave the bar, echoing on the empty street, and Jean is happy listening.

The following year, they go back to the diner; Jean buys Armin dinner, and then they go home together.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://flecksofpoppy.tumblr.com/)! :D


End file.
